


The garden that belonged to us

by RoaringRaina



Series: Mankai Mental Health Company [5]
Category: A3! (Anime), A3! (Video Game)
Genre: (unless you havent read the fuyugumi story), Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comfort, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, M/M, No Spoilers, a sprinkle of domestic fluff, and a dash of general fluff, and a sprinkle of romantic fluff, angst with hopeful ending, breaking up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:53:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29716764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoaringRaina/pseuds/RoaringRaina
Summary: Tasuku and Tsumugi had promised long ago to always share the stage together. To form the ultimate acting duo. Auditioning for the God Troupe was the logical next step. Tsumugi isn’t quite sure who came up with the idea first. Perhaps it was Tasuku, or maybe Tsumugi himself. The memory is blurry and fuzzy, like looking through frosted glass on a wintery morning.It was scary, especially with the way all the actors around him kept growing and improving. Tsumugi’s confidence was fragile at best, no matter how steadfast Tasuku was there for him. Tsumugi never thought Tasuku to be a liar, but anxiety makes even the strongest flowers wither within seconds.But who needs anxiety to wither flowers when someone can come into your garden, uninvited and unwanted and pull out every flower while you are helpless to watch?
Relationships: Takatoo Tasuku/Tsukioka Tsumugi
Series: Mankai Mental Health Company [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1891930
Comments: 8
Kudos: 19





	The garden that belonged to us

**Author's Note:**

> Part 5 of a series I still cannot believe I actually started. 
> 
> While this is part 5, it can be read independently from the other fics in the series.  
> I took a few creative liberties with Tsumugi's backstory. It's nothing too drastic though, it still follows his canon storyline, just with a bit more angst.  
> Thank you for clicking, I hope you enjoy reading.

Life has a way of being full of joys while simultaneously taking away everything you hold dear.   
  
Tsukioka Tsumugi had experienced this first hand where life gave him so many things he held incredibly close and dear to his heart, only for it all to be ripped away within moments.   
  
Tsumugi had been blessed with kind and supportive parents. They drove and picked him up for his acting classes, booked front row tickets for every show. Even the ones where he had the important line of “The next morning.” as a moon or when he was cast as an imposing tree in the background. His mother would cry and coo at him, no matter what kind of costume he wore and even his father had positively shone with pride at Tsumugi’s first role with more than five lines.  
  
Tsumugi had a wonderful best friend, who not only tolerated his endless teasing but also shared his passion and enthusiasm for theatre. Nobody matched his drive and dedication to acting and bringing stories to life like Tasuku did. They would spend their playdates after school reading a million plays, acting them out in a million and one ways, discussing and debating what the best way was to convey the emotion so clearly written in the lines.   
  
Tasuku was always there, right next to Tsumugi and Tsumugi was always right next to Tasuku. Not even twins were as conjoined at the hips as they were. It was only a matter of time before their friendship blossomed into a brotherhood only broken apart by the greatest magic of all. Tsumugi felt it in his stomach when Tasuku was approached by another girl with a confession letter. Or when a girl decided to be brave and wrap her silky long fingers around Tasuku’s arms. Or when a boy got too close and Tasuku shot him a grin. Or when Tasuku, blissfully unaware in his appeal, gave others just a bit too much attention.  
  
Jealousy is a cruel and evil feeling and Tsumugi had hated every second he was subjected to it. Hated the way it made his body feel heavy and his mind clouded. Tsumugi hated it especially when the feeling crept up on him, like a sudden shadow that stripped him of the warmth of the sun. Even if he could see the shadow looming ahead of him, he was still caught off guard by the sudden cold.   
  
But somehow Tasuku would know. Tsumugi did not know how, but Tasuku would make sure to spend an extra weekend sleeping over, even when they reached the middle school age where sleeping over was seen as something odd. Even when their hands brushed too often for it to be accidental, Tasuku would never pocket his hands. Tsumugi would never dare to reach out. Afraid the illusion would cease to exist and the curtain would fall on them. Instead he focused on how warm Tasuku's hand felt, brushing against his as they walked home together every day.  
  
Contentment, Tsumugi would grow to call it.   
  
Contentment, hidden in all their little touches. Contentment, hidden in the little ways Tasuku knew Tsumugi better than anyone on this planet. Contentment, hidden in the notes Tasuku would pass him in class, hidden within his sloppy handwriting, hidden in the smiles and awkwardness Tsumugi knew only he was allowed to see. To see a pure and unfiltered Tasuku. The “Taa-chan” only Tsumugi was privy to.  
  
But love is a bit like greed. It grows and grows and grows. It wants and wants and wants. Jealousy only fastens the process. Adds fuel to the fire. Burns down entire forests while it's at it.  
  
Tsumugi felt powerless to fight it.   
  
He had been conjoined to Tasuku at the hip for as long as he could remember. He knew Tasuku’s secrets like his own. He had hidden a box in his heart with Tasuku’s name on it, barely shut and overflowing with photos of moments only he had been privy to. Moments when the sunlight illuminates Tasuku’s profile, highlighting the sharpness of his jaw and the sparkle in his eyes. Or a snapshot of the way Tasuku throws his head back when he allows himself to laugh without restraint. Or the way Tasuku's cheeks flush pink when Tsumugi’s mother ruffles his hair. Or the way his eyes light up as he talks about theatre or sports.   
  
Or the way he looks at Tsumugi like he is the only person to matter to him.  
  
All of Tsumugi’s favourite moments, neatly packed in a box that was bursting at the seams because somehow everything Tasuku did was Tsumugi’s favourite moment.   
  
And did that  _ hurt.   
  
_ Because Tsumugi wanted to bridge the gap between them. He wanted more than the lightest brushes of hands. He wanted fingers laced together and palms finding homes against each other. He wanted affirmations of feelings he was  _ certain _ they both felt, to know that Tasuku was losing his mind over all these tiny things too. That it wasn’t just Tsumugi and his ugly jealousy and envy over all the others who got to share in Tasuku’s brusque and blunt affection. That there was  _ something _ between them that both of them felt as intensely as Tsumugi did.   
  
But years passed.   
  
They grew older. Their love for theatre grew, their passion and determination to be more than child actors in a local, unprofessional acting club taking over every conversation they shared together. They pushed each other to new heights, Tasuku finding pride in using the bigger body he was still figuring out to be bold and Tsumugi learning to be content with the body that didn’t grow quite as fast as Tasuku’s but could be used to be much more subtle. They found they complemented each other in more ways than one.  
  
Their hands still brushed against each other, but now they would occasionally let their pinkies lock for the smallest of seconds. They still spent a lot of time together, Tasuku’s popularity on the steady rise forming only minor setbacks. He still made it up to Tsumugi with sleepovers on weekends, with notes scribbled in the margins of scripts and new plays, with new ideas and unparalleled enthusiasm. With secrets and intimacy only a best friend could give.  
  
But the seeds of hope had been stubborn. The cold of winter and the heat of summer could not deter them from growing and by the time the spring of their first day of high school rolled around, they were in full bloom. Tsumugi had nurtured them like he had the flowers in his mother’s garden. He had followed his grandmother's advice carefully, guarding them from the weeds of envy that had been sprouting all throughout middle school.   
  
It was the end of their first year of high school when Tasuku had taken matters into his hands. Armed with a pair of hedge clippers, he had cornered Tsumugi, taken his hands, laced their fingers together, pressed their palms flush against each other and with the most forceful press of lips, he pulled out every weed himself.  
  
Tsumugi had been stunned, watching and feeling the flowers in his heart grow, ready to burst out of his chest. Tasuku had given him a toothy grin, one laced with so much embarrassment Tsumugi wanted to kiss him again just to see how much intenser the colour on his cheeks could be.   
  
And so he did.   
  
They kept their relationship under wraps. No one knew. Not their parents, not their classmates. Another secret for the box in Tsumugi’s heart. He was the only one who got to see Tasuku’s face after a kiss. Or get to feel Tasuku’s hands in his hair. He finally knew what it felt like to have palms touch and fingers interlaced. It was like holding pure sunlight, warm and comforting.  
  
Tsumugi treasured those memories, those moments where it felt like the world had disappeared and it was just the two of them that mattered.   
  
This new realisation of happiness, of the true magic of love, strengthened their acting skills. No longer did they act what they thought being in love would look like. No more imagining the tone of voice used to usher sweet affirmations and dramatic declarations of love. Now they could pull from their own experiences, making their acting all the more relatable and realistic.  
  
With time, Tsumugi discovered a new type of flower in his heart. It was called confidence. It had sprouted from determination, diligence and devotion. From practice, practice and practice. From experience, Tsumugi grew.  
  
He wasn't the only one that had grown.  
  
Tasuku had made a name for himself. He was now known for being grande. His movements demanded attention, the delivery of his lines was boisterous and he carried his voice across the stage with confidence. But every now and then, he allowed himself to be softer. Especially in scenes where he declared his love or decreed his passion.   
  
It made Tsumugi smile. Tasuku had always been a show-rather-than-tell type of person, his actions speaking louder than his words ever could. Tsumugi knew this, treasured it, but somehow seeing Tasuku act as a prince sent to save the maiden from the dragon in the castle, part of Tsumugi wished Tasuku could serenade him with compliments on one knee.   
  
This time Tsumugi didn't have to face the seeds of jealousy by himself. Tasuku made sure to plant enough flowers to make Tsumugi forget the weeds had ever existed. But when one slipped between their fingers, Tsumugi knew he didn't have to wait for it to grow. He could take it out himself, feeling empowered by Tasuku's support. Their feelings were his biggest source of strength. Their bickering and teasing a sign love hid in small gestures as much as big ones.   
  
Love was holding out a chair and texting someone good morning. Love was seeing your cherished person talk to someone more attractive and knowing it was okay. That a simple conversation didn’t mean anything, no matter how flirty the other party was.  
  
But for some reason the weeds of jealousy never truly disappeared. Sometimes when they resurfaced, they brought seeds of doubt and worries too.  
  
At some point, without Tsumugi's notice or permission, his flower garden was overrun. Life had become bigger than just him, Tasuku and acting. Now it was time to consider his  _ future _ , to become an adult in an adult world. Tsumugi had always known he loved acting. He also knew that he wanted to make it his career.   
  
His advisor told him to look around, see if he could make it happen. If it would be profitable. It was only then that Tsumugi started looking at the actors around him, not seeing their hard work but their results and achievements. Thoughts that used to be filled with amazement and sparked a sense of competition within him, now weighed him down. He became aware of the difference in their acting styles. In the way he carried himself. He started to see just how  _ small  _ he was compared to actors like Tasuku who drew your eye towards them, no matter where they stood or what their role was.  
  
Incompetence was a word that had entered his vocabulary without his permission.   
  
Tsumugi didn’t like it there, did not like how it steadily climbed the list of words that sprung to mind when asked to describe himself.  
  
But somehow Tasuku knew.   
  
Tasuku had always known but never knew how to help. He showered Tsumugi in compliments, they worked together through different scripts. Tasuku offered advice, pointers, tips and tricks. He comforted Tsumugi with clumsy hugs and awkward pats on the back. With hungry kisses and relentless affection.  
  
It filled Tsumugi with happiness. Rays of sunlight so bright they burned away the weeds in his heart but the ashes never truly left. Tsumugi kept them in a jar, hidden away in the corners of his mind. Like a bad report card stuffed in the back of an old closet.   
  
Hidden, out of sight.   
  
Until the moment someone opened the doors and everything came tumbling back out. But until then, Tsumugi had bought an extra set of locks and prayed it would be enough.   
  
Tsumugi and Tasuku moved in together during their college days, explaining that rent was cheaper when split between two people. Their relationship was still hidden, but Tsumugi knew from the way his parents had whispered it didn’t matter because everyone knew. Tsumugi also learned that he didn’t mind that at all.   
  
Living together meant normalcy. Domestic fluff. Things went fluidly. Tsumugi would come home to fresh flowers, Tasuku to tastier sports drinks. They surprised each other with tickets to plays or spontaneous dates. Tsumugi felt like his life was filled with bliss. He still got to act with Tasuku, despite the rapidly growing sense of inferiority. The self-doubt that kept creeping up on him. The word incompetence still roaring loudly in the back of his mind.   
  
But Tsumugi had gotten better at taming it. He had gotten better at not paying any mind to the dark clouds. He had learned to ask Tasuku if he had an umbrella with him on the days it was unbearable. Tasuku had not hesitated to not only bring an umbrella but to hold it above Tsumugi’s head as he gathered his strength to start walking through the rain again. At some point Tasuku knew when the clouds gathered without Tsumugi saying anything.   
  
And when the rain turned into thunder, wreaking havoc on the flower garden in Tsumugi’s heart, it was Tasuku who brought out the tarp. He had woven one together from his admiration for Tsumugi, strengthened it with affection and encouragement. Tasuku told him how he had always been mesmerised by him, how Tasuku would always find himself watching Tsumugi. How there was strength in getting back on your feet. Tasuku sought deep within himself to find the words he was so bad at using but Tsumugi felt himself saved by the effort alone. He allowed Tasuku to take his hand, took the tarp and with deep breaths allowed himself a break.  
  
And so, together they protected the flowers through the biggest storms.  
  
Tasuku would make Tsumugi remember the person he was. Tsumugi would find himself repeating Tasuku’s words the next day. He was a strong person. He would be the one to determine his own worth. No coach or co-actor could decide if he had reached the end of his growth. Tsumugi was Tsumugi. Tasuku was Tasuku and besides, Tasuku would only ever look at him.  
  
Tsumugi knew it was the truth because Tasuku had kissed him so frantically after telling him these things, hiding his face in the croon of his neck, trying to mask the embarrassment on his face with the flush of affection instead. It was almost like Tasuku was a mindreader, knowing exactly what Tsumugi needed to hear. He lifted him back up, kept him steady on his feet without making him feel like he was dependent on him.   
  
Tasuku just knew what he needed, he knew him like the back of his own hand. That’s what happens when you grow up together with someone. Where you learn everything about a person as you see them change, you grow alongside them.  
  
Tasuku and Tsumugi had promised long ago to always share the stage together. To form the ultimate acting duo. Auditioning for the God Troupe was the logical next step. Tsumugi isn’t quite sure who came up with the idea first. Perhaps it was Tasuku, or maybe Tsumugi himself. The memory is blurry and fuzzy, like looking through frosted glass on a wintery morning.  
  
The God Troupe was The Troupe you thought of when you thought of Veludo. The pair had gone to one performance and both of them had been sold. Tsumugi knew in his heart of hearts he wanted a spot on that stage. He wanted people to know his name, travel to see him perform. He wanted to bring the incredible scripts of the God Troupe to live with his way of acting. He knew that if he was paired with Tasuku they could reach heights no one would expect.   
  
It was scary, especially with the way all the actors around him kept growing and improving. Tsumugi’s confidence was fragile at best, no matter how steadfast Tasuku was there for him. Tsumugi never thought Tasuku to be a liar, but anxiety makes even the strongest flowers wither within seconds.  
  
But who needs anxiety to wither flowers when someone can come into your garden, uninvited and unwanted and pull out every flower while you are helpless to watch?  
  
That was what it felt like when Tsumugi was rejected for the God Troupe audition. He had kept his face in check, his emotions locked carefully in a vault, afraid those would be destroyed if he kept them on display.   
  
Tsumugi had nurtured the little garden in his heart as carefully as he could. Made sure every flower had been sprinkled with water and love. He had whispered words of encouragement as storms loomed on the horizon, he had protected them with Tasuku by his side the best he could. But nothing,  _ nothing,  _ could have prepared him for the heartbreak that came with cleaning up his garden.   
  
Years of work and love and care, all torn apart by a thunderstorm he couldn’t have foreseen.  
  
It made Tsumugi want to close up his garden indefinitely. All the energy he had poured into the devastation in his heart had left him drained and tired.  
  
Tsumugi had turned to Tasuku for help. For someone to help pick up the flowers and weeds alike. Someone to hold his hand as he tossed them all away, hiding the pain that came with throwing away parts of himself. And Tasuku had showed up. He stood there beside Tsumugi, watched the ruin and reached for Tsumugi’s hand.   
  
But instead of helping to clean up the mess, he tried to pull Tsumugi to the nearest flower shop. He brought gardening tools and a bag of seeds to plant new flowers.   
  
Tasuku had always been the type of person to face adversaries with his head held high. Tsumugi had admired him for it. Looked up to him for it. Maybe even resented him for it. Resented him for every time Tasuku kept his head up and his gaze fixed ahead, when he should've looked back at him. When he should've stopped walking for a few seconds so Tsumugi could catch up.  
  
When Tsumugi couldn’t reciprocate the positive energy, it slowly started to feel like Tasuku just stood ahead and yelled encouragement from afar. It felt like Tasuku was not even bothering to cross the distance back to him. Tasuku was there, telling him to keep at it. To try again. To never stop moving. To move beyond the wall that had appeared.  
  
But Tsumugi couldn’t. He couldn’t keep up. He couldn’t look at the ruined garden, didn’t want to touch the seeds Tasuku brought him. Instead, he felt a loneliness he had never felt before. Tsumugi had been with Tasuku for as long as he could remember. Tasuku was the only constant in his rapidly changing life but suddenly that too had changed.  
  
Tsumugi felt abandoned. It broke him to not have his best friend, not even his lover, or his boyfriend, but his  _ childhood best friend _ , not support him.   
  
And so their relationship strained. Tsumugi felt frustration take precedence in their interactions. Their feelings for each other wilting, like flowers that had been out in the sun too long. Neither Tsumugi nor Tasuku had bothered to change out the water, take care of them and left the bulbs to hang before they ultimately snapped.   
  
And when they snapped, so did something within Tsumugi.   
  
He packed his things. He applied for a job outside of Veludo. He wished Tasuku well and told him to move on, and be the best actor he could be.   
  
It broke his heart, sitting on that train to a new apartment, to a new life.   
  
It broke his heart, remembering how Tasuku didn’t see him off.  
  
It broke his heart, putting up “closed” signs in front of the ruins of his flower garden.  
  
Tsumugi lived a life hidden away from theatre. He would be told by students that he had a very nice voice. He brought their boring school work to life with the way he projected his voice.   
  
As hard as Tsumugi tried to hide away from theatre, it always found a reason to find him. Theatre counted to ten and pretended they couldn’t see him behind the curtains. Just long enough so Tsumugi would let out a relieved sigh before it yanked the curtains away and forced Tsumugi to remember he would always be found. That theatre belonged with him.   
  
Theatre had always been part of Tsumugi’s life. It had nurtured him, had helped him grow. It had destroyed him, broken him down into more pieces he could possibly begin to pick up.   
  
Life had taken away everything that the things that had mattered to him most. It took his love for theatre, it shattered his confidence and tore him away from the person he loved most in this world.   
  
Life was cruel.   
  
But Tsumugi didn’t hate life. Instead, he directed all that anger, all that hatred, all the misfortune he felt onto himself. He broke himself down more than life ever could. He purposefully had left all books on theatre and scripts at his-- no at  _ Tasuku’s _ place. He had never gone to a play again. He took long ways around town to avoid the theatre.   
  
And yet, he would never be free. A student of his would tell him about a play they’d watched. Another student would gush about their new favourite actor. Some students brought their own experiences from being playwrights at their theatre club.   
  
Others told him about quarrels with best friends, talked to him about secret notes and long-awaited confessions. All things that reminded him of the one person he was trying so hard to forget.   
  
Life was cruel but full of second chances.  
  
One day, Tsumugi missed his stop. He had been lost in daydreams and ended up in Veludo. Against his will and against his wishes. But there was a poster of Tasuku, front and centre right across the station.   
  
Tsumugi had admired him but felt like something was wrong with the picture. Tasuku’s eyes had dimmed, and while he stood there, front and centre, Tsumugi felt like he wasn’t happy. It was strange to see a face he could draw with his eyes closed changed so much. There were lines in Tasuku’s face that didn’t fit him. His brows furrowed in a way Tsumugi wasn’t used to.  
  
It made him laugh because despite knowing that was Tasuku, it didn’t feel like the Tasuku Tsumugi had left behind in Veludo. It scared Tsumugi in a way he didn’t expect. He wanted to turn around, take the first train back to his new life. But the small poster next to Tasuku’s over-the-top one drew him in.   
  
A small scale theatre company looking for new applicants.   
  
The Mankai Company.  
  
Tsumugi felt something stir in his heart and without thinking, he wrote down the information on the poster. Before he allowed himself more impulsive decisions, Tsumugi boarded the train back, unable to stop the stirring in his heart, the tingling sensation in his fingers and the voice whispering “Mankai” in his head.  
  
Life went fast after that.   
  
Tsumugi breaks the endless train of thoughts he’s having, his trip down memory lane, and makes himself focus on the high school notebooks in front of him. The younger kids asked for his help and Tsumugi would always be there for them.   
  
His mind still travels to Tasuku. To his Taa-chan, to the boy he met when he was so young. The boy he loved so much, his heart overflowed almost painfully. The boy he met who was now a man, his passion having left to make room for cynicism and an acting style Tsumugi couldn’t recognise.   
  
Tasuku’s passion had returned once they performed their first play together. Tasuku’s eyes had been bright, brighter than Tsumugi remembered them. They drew Tsumugi in, and made him miss him. He missed the days where he would spend hours getting lost in his eyes, not listening to a word Tasuku would say but being mesmerised by just  _ him _ .  
  
But that wasn’t the only thing that was different now.  
  
They were clumsy in interacting. Bodies so familiar with each other reaching out, not caught up with the fact they were on completely different planes of existence now. They reached out but missed. There was no finishing each other’s sentences anymore, no more “I thought of you” gifts.   
  
They had shared a space for so long, satisfied in even the smallest rooms but now their moderately big dorm room felt too small. Tsumugi couldn’t get used to pondering the amount of space he took up. It was foreign to him. There was tension, there was the pull of wanting their fingers to lace together, for their palms to meet, for their lips to reunite but Tsumugi knew that time had long passed.  
  
But oh did his mind entertain the thought.   
  
The thoughts were strong, conjuring even stronger winds that threatened the signs he had put around the flower garden in his heart. Tsumugi hadn’t looked at the flowers in a long time. He hadn’t cleared out the rubble after his first attempt. He hadn’t even thought of cleaning up after he escaped his old life. He didn’t want to be reminded of what had been lost. The signs did a good enough job of scaring him off.   
  
But these new winds, they challenged the signs. Challenged Tsumugi to look at himself again. To look at all the empty space in his heart, and tentatively, Tsumugi brought out some gardening tools. He marked a new location, not too far away from his old garden.  
  
There was no Tasuku to help him out, so Tsumugi took considerably longer to set up a fence.   
  
There was no Tasuku to help him out, so Tsumugi didn’t know how to face the first storm.   
  
There was no Tasuku to help him out, so Tsumugi allowed himself to grow clumsily.  
  
But as he worked on his new garden, others came around to help. Homare recommended some roses, Hisoka came armed with marshmallows and anemones and Azuma watched them from a distance, musing something about camellias.   
  
Without anyone noticing, not even Tsumugi, a few orchids were planted in a hidden corner, close to a patch of narcissuses.   
  
As Tsumugi familiarised himself again with taming and caring for flowers, he felt parts of his old self returning. He remembered how important it was to focus on individual flowers. He remembered that soft words, positive affirmations were the most effective path to growth.   
  
This directly translated to his acting. Tsumugi remembered old lessons drilled into his mind. He remembered how to move his body, he remembered the way he could bring life to lines without yelling.   
  
He remembered what had made him love theatre so much. The first performance on the stage was the final push to make the flowers in his chest bloom.   
  
The first standing ovation he received after his return to theatre a memory he would never let go.  
  
The way he and Tasuku had looked at each other, childlike glee and forgotten tension on their faces. The way their hands briefly brushed as they had during their high school days.   
  
It was both the end and the beginning of a new era in their lives, and this time Tsumugi was determined to see it through until the end.   
  
“What are you staring off into space for?”   
  
Tsumugi startles as Tasuku’s voice rings from the doorway to their dorm room. Tasuku closes the door quickly, shivering as he steps into the room. He shrugs off his jacket, brushing snow from his shoulders. He mumbles something about how it’s too cold this late into February, rubbing his hands up and down his arms.  
  
Tsumugi’s eyes linger on the snowflakes stuck in his hair for a second too long. “Oh, just thinking,” he replies, his body relaxing again. Tasuku’s eyebrow lifts and Tsumugi stifles a laugh, hopeful he knows what’ll come next.  
  
Tasuku’s face morphs into a frown - _ as expected _ \- and he sighs. “I don’t know what you’re thinking if you don’t tell me.”  
  
“Is that so? I thought you were a mindreader.” Tsumugi closes the book he had open in his lap and stretches his arms out above him.   
  
“So, what were you thinking about?” Tasuku drops on his bed, watching Tsumugi from a distance.  
  
_ The past. The things I did. The person I was. The thing we used to be.   
  
_ _ All the things that once were.  
  
_ “That high school homework is surprisingly difficult these days.”  
  
Tasuku laughs, throwing his head back and Tsumugi feels something stir in his heart. Amidst the weeds and the trampled flowers, in a flower garden abandoned, a snowdrop lifts its petals and slowly starts to bloom. 

**Author's Note:**

> Snowdrops symbolise hope and consolation. Snowdrops are one of the first flowers to bloom in winter, an indicator that spring is on its way. People in Victorian England believed these flowers were not only a sign spring was coming, but that with spring, better days should soon follow. - paraphrased from Floriography by Jessica Roux.
> 
> I personally love floriography and this fic was the perfect excuse to throw in some flower symbolism. I love the way people attributed meaning to flowers to convey messages that would otherwise remain unspoken. There's something very romantic about it to me. Maybe I'm just a sap, who knows.
> 
> Anyway, this fic is a bit different from the other ones I've written, but I hope you enjoyed it nevertheless. To everyone who has read the other installments and to the people who only read this one, thank you for the support. The amount of kudos and comments have been very rewarding and inspire me to keep writing. I hope you all will continue to join me on this journey, I have many more stories to tell. 
> 
> Let me stop the rambles by thanking you for making it to the end and for reading. It truly means a lot to me. ♥
> 
> May you have a wonderful morning, day, evening and/or night. I hope your lives will be abundant with blooming snowdrops, hawthorns and lilies of the valley.


End file.
